


Galatea

by fairhearing



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Canon Related, Developing Relationship, Ficlet, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairhearing/pseuds/fairhearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(PW:AA) For the prompt: "If at all possible, my request is something based of the Galatea legend. Any pairing will do, and any of the three myths will do. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Galatea

* * *

Phoenix had been the creator.  
  
Miles Edgeworth may have once been just a person -- a child, even, particular and slightly fussy, with the ignorance and cruelties and mysteries that all children have -- but Phoenix made him much more. More than just a hero; more than just his savior. He was perfect. Edgeworth was justice itself.  
  
So when he didn't return Phoenix's messages, or answer his letters, a part of Phoenix was hurt -- but only a very small part. In truth, it seemed like the most natural course for events to take. Edgeworth, carved into Phoenix's memory as a flawless marble ideal, existed only as something for him to strive toward, a pedestal that he struggled to climb, through college, through law school, through moments of pain and doubt. So of course Edgeworth wouldn't reply. He couldn't. He was mute, motionless, frozen in one single instant that Phoenix had preserved in glass, set in stone, studied and restudied from all angles. But never with judgement; only reverence.  
  
So the ache Phoenix felt when he saw him in the newspapers couldn't be helped. The desire he had, sometimes, to take him out of that greyscale prison of "prosecutor" and "prodigy," to bring him into a place that was warm and living, flawed and human -- it was a futile thing to want. It was impossible.  
  
But he couldn't stop trying.  
  
Because in the end, there had been no epiphany, no divine intervention. Phoenix had never answered a knock at his door to find Edgeworth there, questions at his lips, soaked into tangibility by the night and the rain. No one had taken Edgeworth by the hand, brought him into the light. No, it seemed everyone was content to have Miles Edgeworth kept in his frieze -- or else they lacked the courage to shatter it. Including Edgeworth himself.  
  
In the end, it was Phoenix. It was Phoenix who broke through the walls, pulled Edgeworth from the rubble, gave breath to a man who hadn't known he was suffocating. And in the end, when a real person stood before him, battered and bruised but alive, Phoenix wondered -- he would always wonder -- how he had ever thought perfection might be better than this.  
  
***  
  
"Wright," Edgeworth had told him once, through the prison glass. "I'm no longer the person I was."  
  
"I know," Phoenix had said, after a minute. "You don't have to be."

 


End file.
